Under Your Waves
by Baby Doll Gone Wrong
Summary: Post AWE. After taking up residence in New Orleans, A chasm has formed on Elizabeth’s fragile psyche. When Jack sees through her deception, Elizabeth must find solace beyond Louisiana's ocean shielding Bayou. Sparrabeth?


Under Your Waves

Summary : After taking up residence in New Orleans, A chasm has formed on Elizabeth's fragile psyche. When Jack sees through her deception, Elizabeth must find solace beyond Louisiana's ocean shielding Bayou.

Pairing: Sparrowbeth?

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_Chapter One: Unfathomable Repercussions_

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Her calloused hand contoured the glass bourbon bottle, smearing its dewy surface. Examining the dirt beneath her fingernails, Elizabeth pretended to be unaware of the man approaching from behind.

"You're her; aren't you?" He asked almost rhetorically; his thick, Castilian accent difficult to decipher.

"Perhaps," she implied, while bringing the beverage to her lips. "_A lo mejor_," he uttered, with skepticism.

A lost soul of the mesmeric French Quarter, like the other tavern occupants, Elizabeth's vacant eyes harbored arcane knowledge. Like pathogens, secrets were buried beneath her flesh. However, that didn't stop many from getting caught under her waves.

"What business do you seek?" Elizabeth inquired, while stirring the remnants of her beverage. "Just a message to relay, _Pirate King_."

Raising a wry eyebrow, the comment had little effect on the perpetually stoic Elizabeth. "_Te_ _la estás buscando_; you're asking for trouble." No soul ever attempted to infiltrate her past. Confined to the deepest chambers of Elizabeth's conscious, only a select few dared to disturb this equilibrium.

"_Jack Sparrow_…" She muttered under her breath.

"Ah, so I see my services are unnecessary," remarked the peninsular

Though her career was on a permanent sabbatical, Elizabeth still had her fair share of unfinished pirate-related business. In fact, she kept track of her former comrade's predicament; an obligation that was quickly turning into a nuisance.

"You do realize it's your responsibility to protect it - the map."

With an ambiguous smile, Elizabeth reached into her pocket and revealed the weathered scroll. The cartographer, believed to be Poseidon himself, drew the map as-if it were a work of art. From Atlantis, to where the Ocean crosses the cosmos; every route mapped to perfection. If it fell to tainted hands, the repercussions were unfathomable.

"I know my priorities; and believe me, this conversation isn't one of them." With a scowl, Elizabeth placed her bar tab on the counter and headed for the exit; however, the peninsular's urgent pull jolted her to a stop.

"Dear Elizabeth, the lines are distorted. Enemies, allies… - take care of yourself."

As he finished, Elizabeth placed her right hand on the doorknob. "_Cuídate_," she replied, before disappearing into the busy Louisiana boulevard.

Elizabeth's departure left a feeling of unease throughout the tavern; however, her barely audible response fell into oblivion.

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The stagnant bayou air lingered through the cobblestone streets of New Orleans, and Elizabeth found herself longing for the saline breeze of the Caribbean.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, Elizabeth neglected to notice the gypsy at her feet.

"Miss, shall I read your fortune?" As the gypsy drew a tarot card, Elizabeth let out a grimace. Fate was not something predictable, nor avoidable; her father had taught her that - and to a lesser degree, Jack Sparrow.

"Leave me out of your filthy card games, you charlatan!" At that moment, the streetlight flickered, revealing a crazed glisten in the gypsy's eye.

"Ah, Mrs. Turner, I think that's a decision you'outta reconsider." With an abashed twitch, Elizabeth procured a gold coin.

"This...this is not good." Pointing to a rather artistic looking card, the Gypsy bowed her head and sighed.

Picking up the card, Elizabeth read its name aloud. "Two of Swords?"

Squinting her eyes in the dim light, she examined its illustration; a blindfolded woman with her arms crossed; two swords in each hand. In the background, waves crashed against a beach as the moonlight illuminated ominous sea foam.

"You're stuck, Mrs. Turner; fortunately the truth you seek happens to be right in front of you."

"So, I'm alright?" Elizabeth responded, with relief.

Gathering her cards from the ground, the gypsy grinned. "...just remember this; even the softest light will blind those who have lived in darkness."

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By the time she made it home, the bourbon's inebriating effects had already taken hold. Nausea engulfed her body, and Elizabeth searched for a quick fix.

Tea and biscuits should calm my stomach, it always does the trick; Elizabeth thought, after she deeming drinking on an empty stomach a poor decision.

Reaching for the metal canister at the top of her cupboard, Elizabeth opened it to reveal a batch of madeleines, her favorite pastry dessert.

As the kettle let out a loud whine, Elizabeth noticed a soft shadow through her curtains. There was someone on the porch. Pouring the tea, Elizabeth contemplated the discussion at the bar. Perhaps the bloke had been right, Maybe Jack was after her; more specifically, _the map_.

After she mixed the tea-leaves into her cup, Elizabeth eyed the back-door and absconded from the flat. Within moments, she was on the front porch.

With a swift punch, Elizabeth pinned Jack to the door. With her face mere inches from his, she gazed into Jack's brooding, garnet eyes.

"You fear it as well, don't you?" Opening his mouth, Jack hesitated. Those were all the words Elizabeth needed.

Burying her face against his chest, as she sank into his body, Jack ran a finger through her matted blonde locks.

"You're not Elizabeth," Jack whispered in her ear; his breath warm and intoxicating.

"A clever observation, unfortunately, I'm not imposter. Well, in a physical sense."

Psychologically, however, Jack had been correct. A chasm had formed on Elizabeth's fragile psyche; insanity was inevitable.

Removing her arms from the door, Elizabeth pushed it open and led Jack into her decrepit flat.

"Care for some tea and madeleines?"

Disregarding common etiquette, Jack shoved one of the pastries into his mouth; quickly washing it down with the simmering tea. However, before the beverage even reached his esophagus, Jack realized the trap he'd fallen into.

"The tea, it's…"

"- Pennyroyal," Elizabeth interrupted. Seldom fatal, Elizabeth had developed a tolerance to the herb due to it's _various_ other uses.

Silverware crashed to the floor as Jack keeled over in pain. Ignoring his suffering, Elizabeth continued to sip her tea, while smearing molasses onto a madeleine. "¿Cuándo se va a terminar?" She uttered to no-one in particular, while bringing the pastry up to her mouth yet pausing before it reached her lips.

Elizabeth had the right idea, Jack thought as he cradled his abdomen. When would _it_ be over?

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Glossary

Since New Orleans would be under Spanish occupation during the time Pirates of the Caribbean would've taken place, I decided to use some Spanish phrases. Though, I attempted to make most of the words/phrases understandable through context.

A lo major – Perhaps/Possibly/Maybe

Te la estás buscando – You're asking for trouble

Cuídate_ –_take care of yourself, be safe ; a farewell

¿Cuándo se va a terminar? – When is it going to end

Cookies to those who spot the Nirvana and (let's leave the philosopher unmentioned) allusions.


End file.
